


Reflections

by agent_starbuck



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cunnilingus, Deja Vu, Established Relationship, F/F, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_starbuck/pseuds/agent_starbuck
Summary: After a romantic dinner, Monica and Scully take their relationship to the next level, but Monica has a strange sense of Deja Vu. Switches between past and present day.Basically porn without plot and my first time writing a Scully/Reyes fic!





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greycoupon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greycoupon/gifts).

> For the wonderful greycoupon! I love your stories and hope you enjoy this little femslash, smut-biscuit! 
> 
> (Thanks to @observeroftheuniverse, also, for helping me with the idea for this fic!)

Del Mar's is unusually packed for a Thursday night in DC. Monica was hoping for a Saturday night, instead, when she booked the reservations last week, but that would've required that she be put on a waitlist for at least three weeks. And, well, waiting three more weeks, especially when things were just now starting to develop further between her and Scully, was something she just didn't have the patience for. 

Inherently, she considers herself a very patient person. Except she's been feeling that buzz of nervous anticipation at what's to come in the pit of her stomach a little too frequently, lately, and she doesn't know how much more she can physically tolerate.

She wanted this night to be special. She wanted to send the signal that she was ready to take things to the next level. To show that she was all in. That she was serious about where things were headed between them. And what better way to do that, but to romance the fucking hell out of Dana Scully? 

The past several months had been a slow progression of simple touches and glances that, on their own, were relatively benign displays of friendly affection. But the more time she spent with Scully-- late nights in the office, long hours spent in the car to faraway, remote locations-- the more she felt this inexplicable, magnetizing pull between them. It was as if she had known Scully all her life. Things were just… easy… with her. They felt _ right _. 

Before it, she had been living as a prisoner in her own, twisted version of reality where the idea of love-- of soulmates-- was something she merely conceptualized in her head, yet never really had firsthand knowledge of. Like a bird in a cage who gazes out the window at the vast expanse of sky, abstractly recognizing its significance in the grand concept of freedom, but not fully understanding it until the day it escapes and soars amongst the clouds.

When they had finally kissed-- in the elevator, of all places, after a week of being apart on different assignments-- she felt like the luckiest woman on the face of the earth. It wasn't because the kiss was anything extraordinary-- Scully had simply reached around her to push the elevator button-- but as soon as their lips touched, she felt it...

A sense that she had been here before, with Scully. Deja Vu.

The notion isn't particularly foreign to her. She's experienced it on many occasions, but experiencing it with Scully felt… different. She couldn't quite place it. Never had she felt so tethered to another human being before. It was scary and exciting and empowering and she wanted to experience it again and again.

Which brings them to this tiny little corner booth in the back of the restaurant where candle light reflects off Scully's exposed skin, the warm glow making her look like a renaissance painting, and she wonders if even Da Vinci could've captured something so beautiful with the stroke of his brilliant brush.

She's wearing a dress Monica has never seen before. Granted, with how little they see each other outside work, that fact isn't particularly surprising. But it still manages to steal the breath from her lungs each time she dares to look. It's a dark, vermillion, low-cut chiffon dress with straps so thin, she wonders how they even manage to hold the dress in place. She concludes it has to be some form of sorcery. Her hair is twisted up against the nape of her neck-- messy tendrils of hair falling around her face-- and she marvels at how her lipstick manages to be the exact shade of wine she's currently sipping on.

The air around them is imbued with a sort of tension-filled anticipation that feels new and exciting. She suspects Scully feels it, too, with the way she casually brushes her leg with her knee underneath the table or subtly grazes the skin on her hand as she reaches for the wine. 

Monica can't seem to tear her eyes away from her tonight. Every movement she makes seems to be fraught with an undercurrent of sexual energy, and an unexpected thought wriggles its way into her mind…

_ She is going to make Scully come after dinner. With her mouth. _

Which, due to the newness of their relationship, is something she's never even attempted before.

* * *

As they leave the restaurant, the chill of the autumn air elicits a noticeable shiver from Scully's small frame, and Monica wraps her coat, and arms, around Scully's shoulders as they wait for the cab. They decide on her apartment, since Georgetown is closer, and before she knows it, they are walking, pinkies intertwined, to her front steps.

By some miraculous feat, her unsteady legs manage to carry her to Scully's apartment door, and she waits impatiently for Scully to locate the keys in her clutch. Instinctively, she steps forward and presses against Scully's back. She can't help it. Her nose nuzzles against Scully's bare neck, and she breathes her in. The musky, floral scent of her faded perfume still lingers on her skin and, infused with the smell of her arousal, is a heady concoction that makes her head swirl.

"Mmm, you're making it awful hard to concentrate on getting us inside my apartment, Mon," she purrs, her voice smooth like decadent chocolate. The slight tremble in Scully's hand as she reaches to unlock the door, however, gives her away. 

She's just as nervous. And, frankly, it's adorable.

"It's payback for making me lose _ my _ concentration all evening. As much as I love this dress, I haven't been able to focus on anything but getting you out of it," she whispers, watching with intent as Scully closes her eyes and takes in a steady breath.

The inside of her apartment is warm and cozy. Monica has always felt at home here, amongst the oversized, fluffy pillows and scented candles. She glances over to see Scully shrug out of her coat, and reach for the match to light a few candles on the dining room table. 

"Mood lighting," she teases, smiling coyly as she blows out the match. 

"Oh, I can assure you that I'm already in the mood," Monica says, making her way slowly towards Scully in the kitchen, then leaning in to capture her lips in a soft kiss.

"I want to take you to bed. I want to put my mouth on you," she breathes against the shell of Scully's ear. "I want to make you come with my head between your legs."

"Oh… Monica, I--" she says between quickening, shallow breaths as Monica trails her lips down the column of Scully's neck. Her voice is laced with arousal and something else she can't quite place.

_ Trepidation? Uncertainty? _

She dips her head back to look Scully in the eyes. 

"What is it, Dana?"

"Nothi-- I-- it's just," she fumbles around the words in her mouth, and now Monica _ knows _ something is up.

"Dana, sweetheart. You can tell me," she says softly as she tries to search Scully's eyes for any hint as to why she's hesitant to continue.

Scully bites her bottom lip nervously while shyly ducking her head. "I've never, um, orgasmed from oral sex before."

Her heart sinks into her stomach at her words, at seeing Scully be so vulnerable with her.

"Oh, darling," she breathes. "That's okay. We don't have to do this now. I just… God, I just want to make you feel good, Dana. All I've been able to think about is how you'd feel against my mouth. How you'd taste. The sounds you'd make as I pleasure you. But if you're unsure--"

"No, Mon-- it's. It's okay," she says as she reaches for Monica's hand and squeezes it lightly. "I trust you."

"Are you sure? We can take it slow."

"I'm-- I'm sure," she says, smiling a brilliant smile that sends a cascade of tingles down Monica's spine.

"Okay."

* * *

Scully is breathtakingly beautiful.

Monica has always been keenly aware of that fact. But tonight, sprawled out underneath her in nothing but a simple pair of black lace panties and bra as she writhes against the sheets, she's never been more cognizant of it. 

This is her favorite part, going down on Scully. No matter how many times she experiences it, each time feels like the first.

The sounds she makes-- the little whimpers and moans-- as Monica trails her lips across Scully's hipbone, over that one spot she KNOWS drives her crazy, makes her clit throb and ache. She can smell her from here-- sweet and musky-- and she can't wait to take that first taste. Curling her fingers around the elastic of scully's underwear, she starts to slide them down her legs, all the while peppering her perfect skin with kisses anywhere her mouth will reach. 

"Let me make you feel good, Dana," she whispers against her inner thigh. Spreading Scully's legs apart, she begins to lick the length of her opening as Scully's hands thread against her scalp.

"Oh, God, that feels so good," Scully moans, and for a moment, a strange sense of Deja Vu washes over her…

> _ "Tell me how to make you feel good, Dana." Monica's heart pounds in her chest as she nears her swollen bud with her tongue-- uncharted territory. Already, Scully is dripping wet and moving her hips impatiently, trying to direct Monica towards her clit. _
> 
> _ "Mmm, please, Mon," she begs between strangled breaths. _
> 
> _ "What do you need?" _
> 
> _ "Please. Your tongue on me. Just-- fuuuuck," she cries out as Monica hungrily swirls her tongue over her engorged clit. She was gonna drag this out. Tease her. But even she can't wait any longer. Scully is so silky smooth against her tongue, and tastes SO good, she could keep doing this forever. Using the tip of her tongue, she sets up a quick rhythm, and already she can hear Scully's breathing start to shallow. _
> 
> _ "Oh, God, that feels so good." _

"Ungh, I'm close. I'm-- I'm gonna come," she pants and her legs stiffen around Monica's head. She moves to fill her soaking pussy with two fingers, curling them upward to find that spot that always sends her over the edge and, within minutes, she starts to quiver and shake against her. Monica watches as she starts to come apart, that familiar flush spreading from her chest into her cheeks, slightly parted lips cherry red from being caught between her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut. She's absolutely breathtaking. 

"Oh yesss," she moans as she shudders one last time, legs falling limply to the bed.

Trailing kisses up her body, she finally reaches Scully's mouth and kisses her tenderly, slowly, letting her taste herself on her lips.

"I love doing that to you. Each time feels like the first," Monica says, as she nuzzles her head against Scully's chest. Scully pulls her tight against her, holding her in her arms.

"Oh, I dunno. For me, it gets better each time you do it," she teases, pressing her lips against Monica's hair.

"Well, I've had a lot of practice over the years."

"Mmmm, yes, and well… you know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
